


The Winter King

by Impala_Chick



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Assassination Plot(s), F/M, Getting to Know Each Other, Identity Reveal, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Red Room (Marvel), Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 03:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20037373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: Her mission was to marry the Winter King as soon as her carriage arrived at his Court. And then kill him at the earliest opportunity.





	The Winter King

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Entwinedlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwinedlove/gifts).

> I saw that you liked medieval AUs and arranged marriage, and then I was hit with this idea! I hope you enjoy :)

The Red Room’s spy in the winter court had confirmed the rumors. The Winter King had been missing and presumed dead, but he had returned to reclaim his throne. Months after the treacherous battle at the northern border, he still held control over his Kingdom and was lauded as a fierce warrior. Rumors abounded that he’d sold his soul for the Kingdom in order to wield Godly power and prevail over their enemies. That was the only way to explain his superhuman strength, his subjects said. 

Natasha was specifically instructed not to underestimate him.

The Winter King’s land was coveted as the most fertile in the region, and the most prosperous because of their booming trade. The Winter King refused to pay The Red Room’s tax, because he didn’t need The Red Room’s protection. For that, he would pay the ultimate price.

Her mission was to marry the Winter King as soon as her carriage arrived at his Court. And then kill him at the earliest opportunity.

\----

As Natasha stepped from the carriage, the folds of her red dress pooled around her legs and she shook out her hair. She was immediately greeted by a man wearing a long black cloak with a white wolf head on the shoulder. It was the symbol of The Winter King’s court.

“My Lady,” the man said as he bowed his head, and then crooked his elbow for her.

Natasha was well trained in courtly customs, so she tipped her head with a shy smile and then looped her arm through his. She was absolutely sure she looked the part of the blushing bride to be. 

As the man led her down a wide cobblestone path, there was a flurry of activity behind her as her ladies stepped out from the carriage, and servants wearing the black tunic of the Winter Kingdom unloaded the chests she had been supplied. Both held colorful dresses, corsets, undergarments, and bolts of fine linens, which she was to claim were part of the dowry her parents had sent with her.

Her parents were supposed to be members of the Russian aristocracy, which is why she came so well dressed and well accompanied. But in truth, the dress she was wearing was the finest and most impractical outfit she’d ever worn.

The huge wooden doors at the front of the palace were already open, and she was led inside. Through the doorway and to the right was a great hall, lined with white flowers and curious townspeople. All eyes turned towards her, but she was only looking for one person in particular.

The Winter King stood at the raised dais at the front of the room, his long brown hair tied back into a simple bun. She could see his shy smile as he gazed at her with piercing eyes. His arms were behind his back and he rocked from foot to foot. Natasha raised an eyebrow. He didn’t seem very Kingly. 

She strode up the aisle to meet him. He put out his hand to take hers, and turned them both towards the priest. His hand felt clammy, and she wondered whether he was nervous or if his skin was always like that. As the priest started the vows, she watched him out of the corner of her eye. His stubble and his square jaw made him seem quite handsome. The black crown on his head, adorned with round white jewels, glittered in the fading light. It was a bit ostentatious, but striking nonetheless. The set of his shoulders and the wide stance of his feet set him apart from everyone else in the room and gave him a commanding air. 

Once the ceremony was concluded, the crowd cheered politely. The Winter King leaned over to whisper in Natasha’s ear before they started walking back down the aisle.

“Thank you for coming,” he said simply.

Natasha was taken aback and scrambled for a response. She had expected him to call her beautiful, or make a lewd joke about going back to his chambers. 

“You seem surprised,” he said as they walked. 

“Well you’ll have to forgive me, Sire. I’m sure you know that my family always keeps their obligations.” 

“I did not mean to slight your family, My Lady. Allow me to start again. My name is James, and I am lucky to have you,” he said with a huge, dorky grin. 

He led them out of the hall and into a corridor with only a few servants bustling about.

“Natalie,” she said demurely with a slight courtesy. “I am proud to be here by the will of the King.”

She looked up to find him assessing her, his eyes soft. He put his hand under her chin to lift her face. 

“You do not have to bow to me. You are to be my Queen. I’ve already set your coronation into motion. I want you to have everything you deserve,” he said with a smile that looked genuine.

“And please, don’t call me Sire anymore.” He seemed to add the last as an afterthought. He nodded his head once and strode down the hall. Natasha gathered up her skirt with her right hand to follow. 

“This will be your chambers. I’ll have your things brought here. And your ladies can stay in the room next to yours. My chambers are at the very end of this hall, should you need anything.” He pointed to a closed wooden door.

Natasha stood in the hallway for a moment and watched him walk away. He was a very strange King. She’d been prepped for all manner of receptions, and had expected either a party after the wedding or some kind of sexual encounter. To be left alone to her own devices had not been one of the predictions.

She went into her room and uneasily waited for her trunks to be delivered. As she sat on the large straw mattress covered in fine black blankets, she contemplated what she’d learned so far. The Winter King seemed like he was beloved, at least by all those who showed up for the wedding. He had been respectful to her. And he looked just as strong as the legends made him out to be.

Natasha sighed. This was not going to be an easy job, but she knew she couldn’t afford to pass up an opportunity to catch him unaware.

The Red Room had given her everything. She had been an orphan, alone and afraid when members of the Red Room found her. Her instructors gave her clothes, and food, and taught her the fine arts of seduction, axe throwing, and sword fighting. She could wield a mace just as well as any man, and she could hit a target at 300 yards using her bow. She knew the best ways to pierce a man’s mail, and the fastest way to bring a man to his knees.

The Red Room had given her everything. Which meant they could take everything away. If she did not succeed with the mission, they told her not to bother returning. They would find her. And they would kill her.

\----

Natasha waited well after dark, until the palace was completely quiet. She hid a dagger under her dress, in her boot. She had sharpened it before they’d left on their journey, and she was confident she could kill the King with it. She’d decided on a close kill, at night, in hopes that he would be asleep. It would be easier to overpower him if she surprised him.

And it would be easier on her conscious if it was over quickly. It wouldn’t do to get to know him. Nothing good could come from seeing another one of his smiles or letting him charm her.

She silently traversed down the stone corridor. It was completely empty, but she was not entirely surprised. The castle staff no doubt had a long day preparing for her arrival and everyone was probably exhausted. She reached the King’s chamber door and put her ear against it. When she heard nothing, she gently pushed open the door and walked towards his bed. 

The lump under the sheets made an easy target. In one swift motion, she reached under her boot to produce the knife and leaned over the bed.

She hesitated for a moment. There was a small exhale of air, like someone else was breathing. She wasn’t alone. She turned around and tucked the knife behind her back, hoping to hide it.

“My Queen, you’d wish our marriage to end so soon?” It was the King, but his voice was teasing. As if he was amused.

She heard him strike a match, and then a lit candle illuminated his face. The room was empty save for him, but she no longer had the element of surprise. She could strike out, but he could easily deflect the blow. She’d have to either knock him in the face or jump on him in order to throw him to the ground first. But then she noticed that his sword was still sheathed in his belt. He hadn’t drawn his weapon even though it was clearly available to him.

“I know who you are. Or at least, where you’re from.” He wasn’t laughing anymore. 

Natasha felt rooted to the spot, unable to move. How could he possibly know?

“They used to have me too,” he continued. “The Red Room used to make me do things I didn’t want to do. But I got away from them.”

Natasha couldn’t help the small gasp that escaped her lips. 

“No one leaves the Red Room,” she said. “That’s impossible.”

She’d never heard of anyone who had defected and lived to tell the tale. But then he pulled out the tie in his hair and let it fall around his face, and she realized he looked familiar.

“You’re… Barnes? The ghost story,” she whispered, confused.

His existence had been a rumor. Sometimes the instructors said that soldiers from the Summer Court had killed him with their bow and arrows, other times the Eastern Shadow faction chopped off his arms and legs and fed him to the crows. But no matter who was doing the telling, the instructors always claimed that he had been the best assassin the Red Room had ever produced.

She had seen him train during an exhibition, before he was sent on one of his last missions. She remembered the way his long brown hair had fallen over his face, but he’d still been able to hit the target with his axe.

And he was standing right in front of her, very much alive. 

“I’m surprised it took so long for them to send someone for me. I recognized you, though,” he said softly. He held up the hand not holding the candle, as if he was going to soothe a skittish horse.

Natasha took a step back, wary of his intentions.

“If you intend to kill me, I dare you to try,” she said as ice ran through her veins. Barnes laughed again, completely disorienting her. She didn’t see anything funny about having her cover blown by the one person who was probably just as skilled as she.

“I’m not going to kill you. I only want to offer you a choice. You can return to the Red Room having failed your quest, or you can stay here. I can keep you safe in my kingdom.”

“Oh, as safe as you are? You didn't even have guards outside your door. I could have killed you.” As soon as she said it, she realized she’d already given up on her mission. But if she ran now, she was in the Palace surrounded by Barnes’ allies. There was no easy way for her to escape.

He shook his head with a small smile. “I’m not saying you don’t have to be vigilant. I’m just saying that my Court is full of loyal people who won’t hurt you.” 

“And what about my ladies?” Natasha asked. They were assassins too, sent with her to guard her and return to the Red Room with her. Surely they would wonder why she prolonged the mission and send word to their handlers.

“They can have the same choice,” he said simply. 

“Why should I trust you?” She said, still holding her knife.

“The whole kingdom has seen us wed. It would be extremely odd if you turned up dead right after that, wouldn’t it? After all, you have a coronation to attend.” He was smiling again, his expression soft and inviting. 

At his strange words, Natasha felt like she had fallen off her horse but hadn’t hit the ground yet. Of all the revelations so far, this one was the strangest to her.

“You would still have me as your Queen?” She narrowed her eyes, disbelieving. 

“There’s nothing you have done that I have not. I intend to attempt to right my wrongs and protect those who need protecting by ruling here. And the people want a Queen.”

“I will consider your offer,” she said as she sheathed her knife. She swept out the door before he could say anything else. She had too much to consider without him cajoling her any further.

Barnes had known about the Red Room, and yet he hadn’t tried to kill her. That seemed like proof enough that he was being genuine. She never thought escape was possible before, but what Barnes was offering was something of more value to her than certainty. He offered her hope.

And she’d be a fool to turn down an opportunity to wipe out some of the red in her ledger.

\----

Natasha spent weeks learning all about the Court and lands of The Winter Kingdom. She found that he hadn’t lied about having loyal friends. His Chief Knight, Sir Sam Wilson, was a noble and decent man who also happened to be great at telling stories. Sir Clint Barton swooped in and out of Court, seemingly always away on a secret mission. He was even better than her with the bow and he was easy to get along with.

The neighboring Kingdom, ruled by aging King Steve Rogers, traded abundantly with The Winter Kingdom because Rogers and Barnes had grown up in the same village. King Rogers’ Queen, Peggy Carter, was a legend in her own right. Natasha looked forward to meeting them both.

The people of The Winter Kingdom were kind and hardworking. Once word got out that she was skilled at fighting, some of them even asked her to teach them. Wanda and Pietro Maximoff were two of her regular pupils. 

Every night, Barnes would meet her for dinner in the dining hall. He sat at one end in a high-backed chair with a wolf head embossed across the top. She sat in an identical chair at the other end of the table. They’d talk about who Natasha met and who she trained with. They’d trade stories about Sam or Clint. Barnes would even ask her opinion about different aspects of statecraft, like ideal trading routes or armory improvements. 

She actually looked forward to each day. And she looked forward to talking with Barnes. She did find it curious that he never invited her to his bed, or even called her wife, but she wasn’t ready to press him on either topic yet. He was quite handsome, and charming without intending to be, but the steady friendship they were building was comforting to her. He wasn’t just a ferocious warrior, or a skilled assassin. He was also James, a man who loved to laugh and tease and visit with his subjects.

By the time the coronation date arrived, she was actually excited to walk down the aisle of the great hall again. She wore the same red dress that she had worn on their wedding day because this time, she got to wear it while just being herself. Many of the faces lining the walkway were familiar. As she looked out at the crowd, she felt grateful they had welcomed her so wholeheartedly. 

She smiled genuinely when she noticed the King watching her approach. James had his full war regalia on complete with a pauldron, vambrace, and gauntlet covering his left arm. His long black cloak flowed behind him. His dark hair was loose around his ears and his dark crown shone brightly. The sight of him was quite breathtaking. 

She kneeled at his feet as the Court historian read out the oath of the Queen of the Winter Kingdom. She willingly agreed to protect the Kingdom from all enemies and pledged fealty to the King and the Kingdom. 

The King raised her crown, slightly smaller than his but still dark with shimmering clear jewels. He settled it atop her head and then asked her to rise. She carefully did so, suddenly grateful for all of the lessons she’d been given by the Red Room about walking with a crown. It was heavy on her brow, but she proudly took James’ hand and stood up next to him. He walked her back down the aisle to cheers of “Long live the Queen!” 

His hand was warm and careful against hers, and he slowed his stride so that they walked side by side. She glanced over at him, and felt her heart flutter with something like affection. He’d given her so much, and he’d asked for nothing in return. He looked over and met her gaze, smiling softly. She knew then that she’d gladly go to this man’s bed.

\----

That night, she undressed down to her small clothes and tiptoed down the corridor to his room. She didn’t have a knife this time and she felt worlds away from the person she’d been when she first arrived. She was no longer beholden to anyone. She was forging her own path. It still bothered her that she couldn’t be sure when the Red Room would come for her, but she wasn’t afraid anymore. She was a Queen. No matter what they did, they couldn’t take that away. She felt triumphant, and she wanted to share the feeling with her husband.

She knocked on his chamber door before entering. Once inside, she quietly locked the door latch behind her. 

The King was laying under the white sheets on his bed and he looked up at her with eyes wide as if surprised.

“Natasha? Is everything all right?” He asked, hesitant.

“Indeed. I just thought it was time we spent the night together,” she said as she stepped towards the bed.

“I would never ask you to do something -” he started to say. 

“You haven’t asked,” she said to cut him off. She didn’t mean it as an admonishment, but more as a statement of fact. 

He looked at her curiously, his lips upturned in a smirk as he reached for her. She climbed onto the bed and tugged him close. Her heart pounded in her chest as their lips met in a soft, chaste kiss. It was over all too quickly because he pulled away. He hunched his shoulders and took his hands off her to clutch at the sheets. She waited, confused.

“I should tell you,” James whispered, his eyes downcast. “I haven’t…. I’m not the same man I was before.”

He could mean before the war, or before the Red Room, or just before he met her. It seemed hard for him to say as much as he had, though. He couldn’t meet her gaze and he kept flexing the fingers of his left hand as if nervous.

She’d met men who couldn’t bring themselves to bed a woman after a gruesome battle during her missions, and she’d never thought ill of them. She knew better than most that violence affected people differently. So she decided not to press. After all, she could be patient. Sometimes intimacy had to be cultivated carefully in order to make it lasting. Or at least, that’s what the Red Room instructors had taught her. She was momentarily disappointed, but quickly recovered her composure.

“We don’t have to do anything tonight, James. But can I stay?” She asked as she curled her fingers around his hand. He brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them tenderly.

James nodded and Natasha lifted up the covers to move closer to him. His sad smile made her heart clench up with worry, but she could at least offer him some small comfort. She wrapped her arms around his broad chest and he sighed as he settled against her. She smiled against his shoulder and pressed her lips to his skin. She could feel him relax further as she trailed kisses along his back. 

He soon fell asleep in Natasha’s arms. Natasha let her eyes drift closed, remembering that moment when James had offered her hope so many weeks ago. She hoped she was offering the same for him now.


End file.
